


Atlanta Samuel and the Book of Prophecy

by TimetravelingRogue



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Betaed, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-23 03:33:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18541426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimetravelingRogue/pseuds/TimetravelingRogue
Summary: Atlanta is a demigod and that means trouble, for her and everyone around her. After learning that you need a Prophecy to go on a quest and leave the training of camp, she leaves camp to find her own damn Prophecy, and misadventure follows.





	Atlanta Samuel and the Book of Prophecy

**Author's Note:**

> Hello,  
> This is my first time writing Fanfic, hope you guys enjoy!! I’m gonna be focusing more on the world of Percy Jackson and my OC at first, but I am going to bring in some of the characters from the novels and such. Just wait and see ;p
> 
> Also, content warning for graphic violence in the end of this chapter, you have been warned.

 

    The one thing that really pisses me off about the whole “demigod” thing isn’t the monsters, or even the general stupidity of the god’s bureaucracy. While that is annoying – and amusing at times – what truly pisses me off is the fact that you’re expected to stay holed up at some camp, doing next to nothing, for the greatest part of your training. You aren’t supposed to go out and kill the monsters, making the world a safer and cleaner place.

Nope, you got to wait until some dusty old relic says you can leave on some sort of quest which will probably kill you. Huh, who would’ve thought that training against other human beings, using weapon against weapon, wouldn’t prepare you to fight literal monsters that have magic fucking powers. No effing wonder demigods get killed all over the place.

I mean, sure, we can fight demigod to demigod – but where’s the real-life connection in that? How stupid could demigods be to fight some half-assed civil war against each other when we have gods and monsters to worry about?

    I mean, maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m the only one that has had to deal with monsters climbing out of the walls. I figured I was a demigod after my kindergarten teacher tried to eat me.

That’s another thing that bothers me. Like, aren’t teachers supposed to go through some sort of background check? Mortals are stupid, but even the mist can’t just give monsters an automatic background complete with fingerprints and paperwork.

Anyway, I was literally placed into a black caldron in a fireplace, but the carrots really gave it away. I was actually pretty okay with it; the carrots were nice and fresh and I started gnawing on them.

I seemed to think it was a bath, with some added snacks, and splashed the boiling water into the werewolf’s face. Which only made him mad, especially when I got free and was running around with a carrot in one hand and a knife in the other. _I_ don’t even understand how that happened.

Cut to about a minute later: my mother walking into a half-wolf chasing after her beloved toddler. She sprayed the monster with mace and hit him over the head with the stew pot.

    My mom homeschooled me after that.

   

We had to move around a lot during the following nine years. The one and only consistency was Thea: my Mom’s best friend. Somehow she was always able to find us, no matter where we were living at the time, she taught me and my mother how to fight the monsters with blades. She gave Mom two kind of daggers, one bronze and one silver, and trained us in hand-to-hand combat and self defence.

She only came by five or six times over the years, usually with books or new fighting styles to learn. Thea would sit with my mother and me and explain the stories of the gods in vivid detail, down to what the gods were discussing whenever Zeus slept around. Mom relaxed and rested her head on Thea’s shoulder or lap when she told us the stories about the monsters and gods, the power of names, and the workings of the underworld.

My mother would brighten when Thea visited: she would stop looking over her shoulder at the slightest noise and simply enjoy herself. Every so often I would see her eyes deepen with some kind of emotion, softening the harsh lines of her face. They would lock gazes over my head, Thea’s sharp gray eyes dancing as blood rushed to my mother’s face.

 

My father visited once, after we had moved about four or five times. He just walked in the door, like he belonged in our dingy two-room apartment, as if he had just gotten back from the office. He had the look of a college professor that would fail you for missing a single pop quiz. His hair was graying above the ears. He wore a wrinkled navy blue suit that matched the tired lines on his face: the frown lines of a man that was underpaid and overworked.

My mother pulled me behind her at the sight of him.

“Keira,” he started, stepping toward my mom with his hands extended. She didn’t move, her face closed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

    “What the hell do _you_ think _you’re_ doing here?!” She shot back. She stepped forward, directly in front of him, blocking his view of me. “After, what was it, fifteen years? After how many prayers? After your daughter almost _died_? How. Many. Times.”

“You seem to be doing just fine with her help.” He crossed his arms, glaring right back at her.

“Well, at least she was around. She taught me about the monsters, about the camp, _hell_ , she’s the one that prepared me for this shit!”

“We discussed this. She has to get training –”

    “And she has. With me and Thea.” Mom interrupted. “We’ve made it this long without their help.”

    “Well, ‘Thea’ isn’t going to be around forever.”

    “At least she cared enough to give us the knowledge we needed to survive, instead of fucking disappearing at the first sign of pregnancy!”

“Because that was real helpful” I muttered, trying to place myself into the conversation that was pretty obviously about me. Both adults stopped and stared at me, finally aware of my presence in the apartment. “Don’t I have a choice in this?”

My father sighed a little.

“I’m afraid not, but -” he glanced at my mother, “You should have a little power of your own.”

He handed me a slingshot with two settings, one silver and the other gold, with pellets that automatically refilled to use on the monsters. He showed me how to shoot and how the pellet would return to a little bag that I needed to carry. Then he directed my mother to the only other room in the apartment. Through the thin walls, I listened to them argue about some sort of promise that was broken. A prophesy of some sort.

Gods, if there was one thing I learned from Thea, it was that you should never avoid a prophecy. Prophecies have a knack for biting you in the ass, especially if you tried to avoid them.

He stormed out, though he paused momentarily when he saw me. A pat on the head, a slight smile that melted his furious gaze, before he stepped away into a void. That was the first and last time I saw him.

We kept fighting, like we always did. The slingshot ended up being very useful for me, with my small hands. My mom took me to a couple of ranges to be properly trained. Every time we moved there would be a new range to conquer: almost like a new adventure for us.

Thea didn’t return after my father’s visit, but every so often a book on monster fighting, or some ambrosia would just happen to appear. Mother blamed my father for Thea’s disappearance, but I felt that it was just her time to move on.

But, after a while, the monster attacks became more and more frequent, to the point that we had to be moving every two to three days, never resting for long, never unpacking our bags. We barely had time to review the myths and practice technique before the next attack. Finally, after redirecting an extremely drunk cyclops toward Florida (long story), My mother gave in to my father’s demand. As much as she hated it, she just couldn’t do it alone anymore.

    I was going to Camp Jupiter.

 

We started out for the training camp my father suggested about a week after the cyclop incident. We stuck to as many main roads as possible and eventually ended up in California, San Francisco, at Oakland Hills.

“We’re almost there!” I tightened my grip on the slingshot in my hand. The lights of the cars from the highway and the highway itself left the service tunnel in the shadows, but I could see the outline of it and two people standing in front of the door.

“You have the slingshot, right, sweetheart?” Mom asked.  

“Yeah, of course – Mom?”

    She had stopped moving. Her head was cocked on one side, and her nose twitched. Her hand went to the knife at her side. I put up my slingshot.

“That smell . . . Mom, that’s–”

“Decaying flesh” She adjusted her grip on her silver knife.

Lycaon, the werewolf, had a similar smell. Only silver would harm him and his wolves. I smirked a little bit. Lycaon was the one that tried to eat me in kindergarten. He may of had a bit of a grudge after being upstaged by 6 year old, but we had easily overpowered him and any amount of his wolves before. I adjusted my stance, bending my knees a little and bouncing on the balls of my feet.

The lights of the cars flashed by and I saw a humanoid figure just a few feet away, behind my mother. I aimed my slingshot, the setting on silver, and shot. It hit them with a wet thud directly in the chest. Before I could see the monster turn to dust, the light darkened to the blood orange from the highway street lamps.

My mother turned around to see what I was shooting at, and a bony hand stretched out and grabbed her by the neck. My throat tightened and my body froze. The only thing still moving was my heart, pumping madly in my chest. My mother was close to the monster. Much too close.

The next car flashed by, and I saw my mother raise her knife to stab it, the blade glinting in the light.

I came back to life, forcing my fingers to pull back the strings of my slingshot. I aimed at the monster and –

Another car flashed by with their high beams on, ruining my aim and illuminating the monster’s body in stark contrast to the orange-tinted darkness around us. I finally got a good look at the monster.

It was not a werewolf. It was a woman, or once was. Its clothes hanging loosely on its body, just like its blue tinged skin. Its eye sockets were sunken in, empty under flaky eyelids. The scaled skin ran all the way down her body, switching from humanoid to the tail of a snake.

    It was a lamia: cursed by Hera to become a child eating night-demon because Zeus and this queen were doing the nasty on the side. She had gone crazy and ate all her kids, getting a taste for human flesh in the process.

It was basically a zombie.

I tried to get a spot on it, switching the setting to gold. Silver wasn’t of much use when used against anything but werewolves.

My mother was wrestling the monster off of her. My stomach twisted when the lamia sunk her rotting teeth into my mother’s arm.

    Oh, the _fuck_ it did that. I jolted forward to tackle the monster and wrest it away from my mother. I jumped on top of it, wrapping my arms around its shoulders. It simply used its tail to grab my leg and toss me away.

    I ended up rolling to the ground about a couple yards from them. I tried to get back up, but my leg– the one it snatched with its tail– buckled beneath me. With the next flash of light, the monster’s claws raked across my mother’s face. The sound of her pained shout shot through my blood, freezing me from the inside out.

My hands were shaking as I took another shot, which flew wildly into the highway.

    The luck of it all. Fortuna was never my goddess.

The long nails dug into my mother’s eye and Mom _screamed_.  A dim flutter of pain erupted in my chest. I watched it all unfold, my body completely still.

In the orange shadows I saw the zombie pull out both of my mother’s eyes, until the stringy muscle snapped out of my mother’s head. It licked the blood off the inert eyeballs, before it placed them into its own empty eye-sockets

I pulled myself to my knee, forcing the shaking sling up toward the monster.

Its gaze fell on me, my mother’s amber-flecked eyes blankly staring back at me.

I hesitated, my hand still poised to shoot but held in place like a puppet on strings.

It winked at me, the eyes almost twinkling, before it bent its head, its toothy maw gaping wide, and took a bite from my mother’s neck.

I shot it. Point blank in the face.

And it exploded into dust, its forehead caving in on itself. My mother’s eyes were the last things to evaporate. They fell out of the dissipating sockets, landing into the open mouth of the lamia with the bloody meat of my mother’s neck, and dissipating into a dusty cloud above my mother.

After a long moment, I pulled myself onto my knees and crawled to her mauled body, my limbs moving . The monster’s dust shrouded her, coating her wounds and creating a gritty mixture with the fluid leaking throughout the gashes. I desperately try to stanch the bleeding, putting pressure on the wound on her neck and creating a torque for her mauled arm with part of my shirt.

“It’s fine. We can get through this,” I muttered to her through numb lips. I pulled out a bottle of nectar, pouring it over her wounds. She was missing mouthfuls of flesh; her skin was ragged at the edges and there were stray strands of muscle and sinew oozing out of her body. I pulled up her head, cradling it in my hand as I tried to shove ambrosia into her throat.

    My mother stirred and lifted her head, the hollows of her eyes seeping blood that trailed down her cheeks. The only thing left of her eyes were strings of muscle trickling out of the hollows. She turned toward me and her voice caught in what was left of her throat. She tried to take a breath. Nothing came out. I held her hand, trying to find a pulse on her wrist. Her hand went slack.

**Author's Note:**

> You should check out my beta’s work on AO3, the lovely iputthepaininpainting and her Twitter @paininpainting or Tumblr @iputthepaininpainting.  
> My Twitter is @TimeTravelingP2 and my Tumblr is @timetravelingpiraterogue if you want to check those out.  
> See ya guys next time!


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